


Stop the World

by Kaitlin



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaitlin/pseuds/Kaitlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Lysandre is a prestigious fashion designer. Sycamore is a model lamenting his age. Things can't ever just go smoothly, can they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Augustine immediately regretted everything about this.

He resented the navy slacks around his waist, they seemed fine this morning when he had leisurely plucked them from his suitcase, feeling confident, but now the starch fabric felt cheap against his legs. The white button up hanging off his shoulders was making him itch. Cotton had never been so restricting, even with the first 3 buttons off duty. No one could see his socks but they too were wrong, although he had known that when he had hastily shoved the mismatched purple and green wool onto his feet when he noticed he was running late. His shoes at least were clean, but the brown loafers suddenly seemed like the incorrect choice and wondered if they made him look old.

His dark hair was a mess, Augustine was trying to play that off as on purpose, nonchalantly flipping it out of his eyes, while subtly trying to comb through it with his fingers. In truth he’d been in such a rush to get out of his hotel room to meet the cab he’d completely forgotten about it until spying his unsightly reflection in the car’s rear view mirror.

“Merde... this is a disaster.” he muttered to himself rubbing his chin and finding another fault in the day old layer of uneven stubble lining his face. Augustine stood awkwardly in the middle of the lobby of what he thought to be a rather swanky event centre. Having been out of the Paris circuit for many years he wasn’t sure if he’d ever been to this particular hall. He’d been rather surprised to find the interior so incredibly red. Tall wooden beams dyed accordingly framed the length of the room with various doors and a reception desk off to one side. He’d been told curtly by the young woman there to wait around once she’d seen the wrinkled invitation Augustine had been clutching to like a life line. She’d been immune to his natural charm and refused to answer his questions about how many other people would be here today. The red marble of the floor shone under his feet and he’d spent a lot of time looking at it against his shoes for lack of anything else to do.

But when the floor had proven to not really be entertaining at all he’d decided scope out the others in the room. At least seventy other men and woman stood around chatting to one another. Feeling very cobbled together compared to some of the well built men and petite woman around him Augustine let out a sigh and hung his head. Decked out in much more fashionable clothes than himself he was beginning to feel even more inadequate. The makeup of the room was a fairly even gender split but age wise he realised he was definitely one of the oldest.

 _“This is a young man’s game.”_ He thought to himself bitterly shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks reassuring himself by touching the now even more creased invite hidden within. Being in his late 30’s wasn’t necessarily the end of his career, but it was going to make it harder for him to stack up against others vying for spots especially when some of the others around him were still teens.

 _“Maybe it really is time for a new career.”_  Just as he was considering turning on his feet and fleeing the portly man Augustine had met the day prior appeared from one of the small side doors of the lobby. The quiet hum of the room stopped as all attention turned toward him. The man crossed the hall with an even pace and came to a stop in front of a set of an imposing entrance way.  The doors were red like everything else but garnered with dark marble adornments on either side.

“Most of you will have met me before, but for those of you that haven’t, I am Xerosic.” He sounded almost disinterested. Xerosic wore a suit of orange red with white decals framing the seams, not unlike what Augustine had seen him in the day before. Crimson tinted glasses hid his eyes and an almost comical tuft of red hair stood atop his pale head. He looked like a tomato drowning in a sea of blood when put into context with the rest of the lobby.

“He doesn’t have a lot of time today so line up quick so we can get through this.” And with that he turned and opened the door behind him, the men and woman of the lobby shuffled into a natural queue with Augustine finding himself somewhere between the middle and back.

“ _Too late to turn back now”_ He thought to himself nervously attempting to tame his hair for the umpteenth time as he was whisked along with the crowd.

The door led into a theatre. Plush velvet lined seats adorned both sides of the aisle Augustine and what he suddenly realised he should consider his competition were walking up. The room was impressive and could easily seat 400 and possibly twice that much depending on the size of the balconies. Today however it was sparse except for 5 people whom he could see the back of from his place in queue.  He couldn’t see much from where he was but each had a bright shock of hair and he wondered if all of Paris’s designers were so eccentric.  In front of the designers stood a modest stage, framed by large red curtains. Soft lights illumined the front of the structure.

“In groups of 10 if you will” Xerosic  stepped aside letting the first of the queue filter past him onto the stage at the front of the hall.

“Stand apart -  yes like that.” The large man nodded. “What do you think boss?” He asked waddling up the stairs behind the first group.

Sycamore couldn’t get a good look at who ‘boss’ was but heard a noncommittal grunt from one of the people sitting at the front of the theatre.

“I like the blonde.” A woman’s voice sang out, “The rest though, really Xerosic , where did you find this riff raff he said new blood not-“

“Silence Mable.” A deep voice rang out. “The blonde and the boy at the back with the dark hair for Celosia. Next.”

Dejected the first set of contenders left, with the two chosen being ushered to into a different door off the side of the stage. The next lot filed on. “I will take the pale boy for my line if it pleases you boss.” A different female asked. The third set moved into place with no one making the cut.

 _“Tough crowd”_ Augustine thought to himself. As the line shuffled forward he tried to get a look at the men and women sitting in the chairs but found his view obstructed by the others in wait. The fifth set was called up and Augustine found himself on the stage between a tall dark skinned beauty and young man with chiselled features.

Looking forward off the stage Augustine finally found himself with a view of those judging him. Four woman sat haphazardly arranged around a red headed man.

 _“That must be Lysandre.”_ He thought taking in the imposing looking designer.  

The lead designer and owner of _Flare_ sat with his arms folded in front of his chest and a steeled look on his face. His hair and beard bright and bold styled up and out only adding to the man’s intimidation factor. He wore, from what Sycamore could see, a tightly styled dark coat with a fur collar. The woman around him did not guard their expressions so and looked visibly bored.

“Now before you ask.” Xerosic stated suddenly next to Augustine. “I’d like to claim this one for my winter line. I picked him up at a meet and greet yesterday I don’t know what he was doing there he was clearly more experienced than the rest, August? Was that the name?” Xerosic grinned placing a sweaty hand on his shoulder.

He recalled yesterdays networking lunch which he’d been able to get in thanks to name dropping Rowan at the door in conjunction with a few well placed compliments and flirtatious winks. He’d only been in Paris for three days and was glad to be able to slip back into the circuit so easily. A bunch of up and coming models had been there trying to break into the industry with scouts giving out cards to those they took a liking to. Augustine would have been happy with a card from any designer as he was just looking to get his name and face back out in the region and had been flabbergasted when approached by the legendary _Flare_ brand it’s self. He’d also received an invite from _Aqua_ but _Flare_ had carried more weight and the scout, Xerosic, had been incredibly enthusiastic.

“Aahaha oui-uhh yes that is me.” He laughed nervously looking at Xerosic feeling like a spider caught in a web. Augustine realised the other man’s insistence that he come and meet the great Lysandre and be considered for the _Flare_ brand’s up and coming fashion show was to wear his own personal designs. He wasn’t sure why that rubbed him in the wrong way, he would still be wearing _Flare_ something that eclipsed all his prior work for Rowan. Still he couldn’t help but feel used. Xerosic was smiling at his boss waiting for approval.

Lysandre tilted his head up as if to get a better look at Augustine, feeling very much like a piece of meat on display before a lion. Sycamore shifted his weight to his right leg and fidgeted his hands.

“Yes I suppose he would suit your line.” Lysandre said simply, Xerosic beamed.

Augustine smiled nervously at Lysandre. Not sure what to make of the _Flare_ boss. No one else from Sycamore’s batch made the cut so Sycamore shuffled off to the side room on his own. As he entered the others looked up at him briefly before resuming their conversations.

The room too was red like the rest of the building. There were no windows just soft halogens illuminating the modest sized space. Empty clothes wracks were put to the side and a table with chairs littered the middle of the room. People were lounging around the table and few groups had separated off to the sides.

“They’re really brutal here!” A young ginger girl whined from the corner of the room. Her medium length hair styled to the size. She wasn’t wearing much of anything, her crop top exposing her trim waist and mini skirt displaying thin, but muscular legs.

“Glad I made the cut, though.” She smiled, talking to a quiet twenty-something man dressed in unassuming dark shades, a black vest over a deep purple button up. This complimented his hair which was extraordinarily purple, Augustine briefly wondered how often he had to re-dye it. His bangs framed his face, the rest kept short.

“I’m surprised you did.” He said simply. Not paying that much attention to her as he looked around the room.

“I knew he’d get in, however.” The man tipped his head in Augustine’s direction.

“Hey what’s that supposed to mean, Will?!” The red head put her hands on her narrow hips and pouted.

Augustine nervously scratched the back of his head and smiled.

“Merci... I think?” He laughed afterwards trying to quell the tense atmosphere.

 “You are a swimsuit model, Misty, _Flare_ isn’t known for that kind of design, but I guess you suit something in their new line.” He shrugged, “And him? Well, l am physic after all.” Misty rolled her eyes, Augustine awkwardly laughed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, not really sure what to make of the man.

“Well you both look very much the part.” Augustine tried to return the compliment and include the currently pouting ginger all in one. “I’m sure you’ll both look stunning in _Flare_ designs, I wonder what styles will be in this cycle?” He said with a smile, Misty blushed at his remark.

“I’m not surprised by how tough they are.” An icy woman stated joining the conversation, Augustine recognised her as the first person selected by the designers. She wore a simple pale dress that showed off the curve of her hips, her bosom also benefiting from the sheer fabric. Her blue eyes were piercing but kind. Long blonde hair bounced around her face as she walked towards them.

“You do realise they are selecting today for the Colress Awards, the event is only a month away.” She informed them. Misty pouted again.

“Of course I know that! That’s why we’re all here.” The ginger frowned, not appreciating being talked to like a child.

“My name is Glacia.” She gave Augustine a small smile and offered him a hand. He took it gladly and was surprised by how cold her soft skin was.

Augustine had been aware of the Colress Awards but only because Xerosic had mentioned them yesterday. His return to France hadn’t been planned, something he didn’t want to think about right now, but he’d thanked his lucky stars for the fact that a huge event was taking place in his home city. It was just what he needed to get his name and face out there again in Paris.

While they had been talking a few more lucky models had entered the room, finally followed by Xerosic and the rest of Flare’s designers. The attention of the room shifted to the space’s new entrants. Following Xerosic were the four female designers from earlier trailed by their boss Lysandre. Augustine noted that they all wore red and white like Xerosic except for the Flare boss whose tailored black suit set him apart from the rest.

The four women, each with incredibly bright hair stood on either side of Lysandre. The purple haired woman whispered something to the shorter green haired designer who nodded in approval. The orange haired girl seemed to be standing as close to Lysandre as she could get away with, while the bluenette lounged to her other side. Xerosic found himself slightly in front of the girls and to the left.

Awkward silence permeated the air for a moment before Lysandre stepped forward and addressed the room.

“I am Lysandre.” He said simply. “Xerosic you know, but this is Bryony and Celosia.” He gestured to the green and blue haired woman to the left.

“I am Aliana” the orange haired girl to Lysandre’s right introduced herself.

“And I Mable” The bluenette smiled.

“Thank you for coming out today.” His voice was flat but sincere. “Before making final selections for those who will walk in the Colress Awards for us, we will need to take measurements and perform a few rehearsals and fittings over the coming weeks, but I am fairly confident you are all very capable men and women.” Augustine was intrigued by the way Lysandre was able to command a room’s attention. He didn’t speak loudly, nor with an over abundance of enthusiasm but rather the honestly in his body language and words broke through his intimidating appearance.

“My designers and I will trial you briefly in a few of our proto type garments to make sure you’re what we’re looking for before penning you in for rehearsals and further fittings.” Lysandre finished. As if on cue Flare’s designers began picking out the models they individually wanted. The blue and green duo beelined for a set of identical twins who had kept to themselves to the side of the room. They were incredibly tall, but the designers didn’t seem to be phased by their overbearing appearance. Augustine watched as Mable signalled for both Misty and Glacia to come to her.

The dark haired model jumped when Xerosic clamped his hand down on his shoulder for the second time that day.

 “August, my boy, so glad you made it through” He flashed a toothy grin and Augustine returned a small smile. He was beginning to like Xerosic less and less, but steeled himself to be polite as he needed the work.

“Not so fast Xerosic.” Augustine spun around to find Lysandre standing behind them.

“Boss?” the portly man questioned.

“I will take this model for myself, if it pleases him.” Lysandre addressed Sycamore.

“M-me? Well, yes, sure I would be honoured Monsieur.” He stuttered out nervous under the intense gaze of the Flare boss, Lysandre’s gray blue eyes boring holes in his head.

“But Sir! You said-“ The red head cut off his underling with a shake of his head.

“I said no such thing, I have chosen Will for your line, he will suit it better.” The boss motioned towards the purple haired model that was standing awkwardly in the corner with no one attending to him.

“Boss I must disagree.” Xerosic’s eyes were shielded behind his tinted glasses but by the set of his mouth Augustine could tell the designer was not happy.

“August here is too old for your new pieces. You need someone younger.” Xerosic nodded as he spoke as if it would give credence to his words.

“Usually you would be right.” Lysandre was clearly getting annoyed with his employee; he looked down his nose at Xerosic as he continued. “But in case you hadn’t heard _Galactic_ have coaxed Rowan out of retirement for the Colress Awards. Even _Rocket_ has managed to pilfer both Oak and Elm and last I heard Birch was in talks with _Magma_ and _Aqua_. Our greatest competitors are all pulling big, retired names, and you can be sure that their CEOS, not their admins, will be the ones dressing them.” Xerosic was beginning to look nervous under his boss’s intense stare. Like a predator staring down his meal Lysandre went in for the kill.

“So to compete, I need something to match. I do not know why they are using such...” he paused. “...mature models, and I am not prepared to select one such model myself, but I feel a mix between youth and maturity will see me right.” Lysandre finished his statement by folding his arms across his torso.

“Yes Boss.” Xerosic looked at his feet, feeling rightfully shamed.

“If you have no more objections, please go help Will he looks a little lost over there.” Lysandre instructed and his designer was quick to obey, leaving Augustine alone with the Flare leader.

The model didn’t know what to make over the spat for his service, he stood awkwardly looking expectantly at Lysandre. The red head studied him for a moment before remembering his manners.

“August, was it?” he finally asked.

“Augustine, but you can call me whatever you like.” He laughed nervously mentally noting that he really had to stop doing that least someone think him simple.

“Augustine it is then. Do not be so quick to let others shorten your title, it is a beautiful name.” He complimented before continuing. Augustine smiled at the praise, willing his cheeks not to warm.

“Sorry to not recognise you, I thought I had a good handle on all of the models in Paris, but here you are.” He masked the question as a statement, but Augustine knew he was expected to explain.

“Oh!” He began, “I was born here. Lived here. Started my career here before travelling overseas to model for Rowan.” Feeling uncomfortable Augustine shifted about his weight. “I modelled for his brand for a number of years, and have only just returned to France this week.” He’d hoped the brief explanation would satisfy the younger man.

“Rowan? Interesting. You looked like you had some experience. At least more than this lot.” He stated. “You will be modelling against your old boss, I suppose you didn’t expect that to happen.” Deciding this to be enough back-story, Lysandre got back to the task at hand, Augustine just glad there were no more questions.

“If you would follow me, I have some rough garment drafts for you to try, and I’d like to take your measurements.” With that the red head turned and headed the opposite side of the room where a simple door the model hadn’t noticed before stood. Lysandre opened it and Augustine followed behind, giving one last glance to the space where models were early talking to designers he spotted Xerosic directing a frown at him, he had no doubt the man was glaring behind his garish glasses. He quickly closed the door behind him and followed Lysandre into the spacious hall.

Unsurprisingly it was again, entirely red, from the thick carpet on the floor to the polished wood panels on the walls. Even the glass scones shielding bulbs were tinted in what Augustine was slowly beginning to realise was _Flare’s_ signature shade of crimson. He wondered if what he was going to model was going to be red too, suddenly apprehensive remembering Rowan telling him he “didn’t suit red. Not one shade.”

He was pulled from his memory when Lysandre brought them to an elevator, he pulled a small keycard out of his jacket and swiped it, the metal jaws of the elevator (which much to Augustine’s surprise were not red) opened and the model shuffled inside after the designer. Augustine couldn’t see what number the red head had pressed but it was clear they were going to the top floor. An awkward silence settled in as they ascended. Augustine attempted to break it.

“So uhhh how many other models will be wearing your pieces?” He smiled thinking it a fair way to start a conversation.

“Just you.” Was the response he got. “All of my pieces this year are unisex, I only need one model.” With that the elevator dinged opening to a luxurious office space.

Augustine was surprised with how light the room was. The back wall was all glass, affording an impressive view of the city. The Eiffel tower visible off to the side behind a jumble of high rises. The floor was panelled with dark stained wood covered in expensive looking scarlet rugs. The walls covered with framed photos of what the model assumed were some of Flare’s previous seasons. A stout desk sat in the centre of the room. It was tidy, but it was obvious the papers stacked to the side had been hastily shuffled together. To the left of the desk was a clothing rack where half a dozen garments hung, waiting. A trio of mirrors stood to a corner and next to that another desk with sewing equipment. An aged sewing machine, black, sat quietly surrounded by garment scraps, pin cushions and sharp looking cloth shears. A dressing screen dissected part of the room, it was painted with flowers in varying shades of crimson. The other side of the room was less practical encompassing a low coffee table and comfy looking red leather sofas.

 Lysandre said nothing as he walked into the office, Augustine following on his heals afraid to touch anything he wasn’t supposed to.

“I hadn’t planned on bringing you up to my office.” The red head confirmed the models assumptions, “This week has been hectic and I am embarrassingly enough somewhat unorganised.” The designer took off his fur collared jacket and neatly folded it over the chair behind the large desk. The simple, but well made, orange long sleeved orange button up underneath showed off Lysandre’s broad shoulders and lean waist. Augustine wondered why the bearded man wasn’t a model himself with a build like that. The good lighting of the office allowed him to get a better look at the designer.  His cheek bones were high and under that styled beard Augustine was sure there was a chiselled jaw. He noticed for the first time that Lysandre was wearing a cravat, the red fabric preventing him getting a better look at the man’s neck. All in all he found the red head to be rather handsome.

Lysandre made his way over to the clothes rack and pulled off one of the hanging garments. It was a decorative shirt, black, with colourfully embroidered flowers starting at the cuffs of the sleeves and making their way up the arms. The flowers blossomed as they hit the garments torso spiralling down the front of the shirt. Augustine thought it was beautiful, and surprising he had not expected something so delicate from the designer. Next the red head pulled a pair long shorts from the rack. They looked awkward on the hanger and Augustine wasn’t sure what to make of the dark material hemmed in red.

“Please put these on.” Lysandre handed to the clothes to Augustine and motioned to the dressing screen which divided the bottom half of the room. He ducked behind the wooden board and began changing. Pulling off his own shirt (which he was thankful to take off) discarding the white cotton on the floor. It was soon joined by his loafers and navy slacks. There was a mirror on the other side of the changing room and he took a moment to take in his dishevelled hair, day old stubble and odd socks.

 _“I’m a mess.”_ He thought to himself stepping into the strange trousers. They stopped just after his knee but he found that the crotch for them sat far too high. He wasn’t expecting a perfect fit but he also wasn’t expecting to feel so constricted. He took a step backwards trying to adjust the way they sat around his hips but his green socked foot lost purchase on the hard wood floor and before he knew it he had landed on his behind with a loud thud. In an instant Lysandre was behind the screen.

“What was?” He asked as he rounded the corner forgetting privacy boundaries for a moment. When he saw the model sat on his back side flushed with embarrassment he quickly turned his back so not to invade the shirtless mans privacy, but not before noting how the tips of the models hair brushed gently against his collar bones, or the way his blush had spread onto his neck.

“Are you alright? Sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ the designer was cut off.

“Non, non. I am a clumsy fool I apologise I could have wrecked your clothing.”

“About that.” Lysandre began,

“You put them on backwards.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lysandre’s smile was beautiful.

Framed by his red beard Sycamore thought the other mans lips to be stunning. Even if the designer was trying very hard to return to his steely professional look the corners of his mouth kept twisting upwards at Augustine’s predicament.  Sat on his behind on the polished wood floor the model was bright red, a pair of fancy trousers halfway down his legs. The designer came to his aid and helped the other man stand up, his strong hand clasping the model’s thinner fingers. Augustine hastily pulled the still backwards pants up to somewhat cover his modesty. He felt embarrassed, scrutinized even, under the other mans intense gaze.

“I’ve decided I don’t like that pair anymore.” Lysandre announced suddenly trying to take control of the situation. With words at his command he seemed to banish the smile that had been tugging at his mouth. He returned to the other side of the screen to allow Augustine to change in peace.

“But I didn’t even wear them properly...” The model frowned stepping out of the offending trousers at last, he left them on the floor. Augustine looked up to see a different set of pants hung over the side of the dressing screen. He tugged them down and inspected the fabric. They were true shorts unlike the last pair, he could tell the fabric would end just on his knees. Incredibly bright the pink material was surprisingly soft in his hands. Dark black panels accented the outside of the legs and the cuffs at the end matched this. The belt loops were also black standing out from the bright material that made up most of the garment.

Augustine thanked the gods there was an obvious fly on this more conventional pair and quickly jumped into them. They were reasonably loose about his waist, but he didn’t expect a perfect fit at a garment fitting. He reached for the embodied shirt Lysandre had given to him earlier and shrugged the fabric over his shoulders. He watched himself in the mirror as he did up the buttons only now noticing that the pink bits of embroider on the shirt matched the shade of the shorts. He did all the buttons up but then undid the top one again, he was old but he didn’t need to look it. He mussed his hair out of his face before stepping out from behind the screen.

Lysandre was leaning on his sewing desk, obviously waiting for the model to dress. He had rolled his orange sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms. He took in the sight of Augustine and nodded before picking a handful of pins out of a pincushion and crossing over to him.

“Good.” He commented simply. Lysandre said nothing as he put a hand underneath the models arm and raised it so it was at a right angle with his body.

“This will have to be taken in.” He commented, folding some material in the junction of Augustine’s arm and pinning it neatly. He repeated the same process on the other side. The model was curious as to why Lysandre was doing this sort of menial work himself, even when he was working under Rowan he would oversee while apprentices would do this kind of manual labour. As if reading his mind Lysandre spoke.

“I like to do this part of the process personally. I cannot expect to get the best, no, perfect results, relying on others. It is also not fair to expect others to do all the hard yards while I sit at the top.” As he spoke the designer knelt down before Augustine pinched the sides of his hips, seeing how much room the fabric had to give.

The model looked down at the designer taking in the new angle of him. From here he could see the way the top of his ‘mane’ spiked back. His broad shoulders were even more apparent from this bird’s eye view. Augustine couldn’t help but find him staggeringly glorious. He truly was a beautiful man. Deftly Lysandre pinned the sides of the shorts to better fit the models waist. His fingers brushed against the skin of Augustine’s hip as he did so making the model twitch.

Lysandre fished into his back pocket and produced a tape measure without so much as a word he, while still on his knees, wound the measure around Augustine’s waist. He pulled it tight making a mental note of the number. Augustine stood nervously as the designers hands spanned around his torso and noticed himself feeling hotter and hotter, he hoped he wouldn’t sweat on the nice clothes. He swallowed and try to make conversation again.

“How many pieces does your collection have this year? Are they all as lovely as this?” He laughed nervously once more at the end of his sentence, his charm on autopilot as the compliment rolled off his tongue. Lysandre didn’t look up from his task at hand as he drew the length of the tape measure up the outside of Augustine’s leg.

“At least 12 or so.” He said, the silence that followed signalled that perhaps he should offer more to the conversation at hand.

“I am still undecided about some.” As he talked the designer measured the inside of the models leg. Placing the end of the tape at the models feet he pressed on it with his thumb and drew it upwards against Augustine’s thigh. As he did so the designers hand unwittingly brushed against Augustine’s flaccid cock. The model freezed up feeling incredibly embarrassed, to make matter worse he felt his body begin to respond to the feather light touch. Lysandre seemed to have not noticed his folly and was at this point standing up and returning to the clothes rack beside his desk.

 _“It’s just because no one’s touched you like that for a long time.”_ He tried to tell himself as more blood rushed south, he stood awkwardly trying to will his body’s need away. As Lysandre’s back was turned Augustine quickly tucked his erection in the waist band on his undergarments to keep it from sticking outwards, it was still reasonably noticeable much to his dismay. The designer fished a formal looking suit off of the clothes rack and returned to the embarrassed looking Augustine and handed him the clothes hangers.

“This will be the last one for today, I only need preliminary measurements and fits.” He said kindly. He seemed to be loosening up, or at least, was less stern since the models fall. Augustine was more than happy to duck behind the changing divider to hide his shame. He quickly pulled off the pink shorts, being mindful of the pins, and surveyed the damage.

He was rock hard. Painfully so, the fabric of his striped underwear uncomfortable against his hard member. He looked down at his body’s betrayal with despair.

“Merde.” He muttered as he began to undo the embroidered shirt, carefully avoiding the pinned corners, it joined the pink shorts on the floor. He was hoping his erection would go away but it wasn’t. He didn’t have the time privacy or the right amount of shame to jerk off here and now like a horny school boy. He grabbed at the clothes Lysandre had given him hoping that more time would quell this unfortunate turn of events. First grabbing at the shirt, it was deep purple and tailored tighter than the last. No fancy adornments but the fit and feel of the fabric were the allure of the long sleeved garment. As he did up the buttoms he tried to fill his mind with things that would banish the swelling in his underwear.

 _“Cold showers, sports, trains, clothes, Lysandre, Lysandres big hands, Lysandre looking at you shirtless-“_ He nearly toppled over again at his minds uncooperativeness as his underwear tightened even further. He reassured himself once again that this was just because he hadn’t had a lover in a reasonably long amount of time and that he hadn’t had any time to himself either since he’d arrived back in Paris. He was not in any way attracted to _Flare’s_ owner and lead designer. He couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be. Not after what happened with...

He shook his head ending that line of thought as he reached for the trousers he was to try on. At a first glance they were plain black suit pants but it soon became apparent to Augustine they were much finer than that. Panelled up the leg (panels must be in this season he mentally noted) was a thick piping of floral material. Black like the rest of the trousers, the piping covered the seam while giving the pants some elegance. They were tight he noticed as he pulled them up his long legs, there was very little room in the legs and he dreaded trying to stuff his still hard erection into them. He left the fly undone for a moment when he reached for the accompanying jacket, pulling it on over his shoulders. It matched the trousers in that it was black, but also accented with floral material. Along the tops of the shoulders the same material could be found enhancing the jacket, as he examined himself in the mirror he noted that the back of the jacket was entirely comprised of the floral pattern. The jacket was tailored inwards, making Augustine’s waist look even thinner. He thought he looked rather well put together in the ensemble, except for the hard cock sticking out of the undone fly.

“Are you alright over there?” Lysandre questioned, the tapping of his shoes coming closer to the changing board.

“Yes! Nearly done!” Augustine blurted out. “One second!” The sound of shoes stopped.

He frowned at his body’s complete and utter un-cooperation and tucked his erection once again into the waistband of his underwear and did up the fly. He looked up at the mirror and was horrified. The pants were tight. Incredibly so. Augustine panicked as he adjusted the trousers a bit. If he skewed his posture a wrinkle would form in the material obscuring his erection somewhat.

He grimaced one last time before awkwardly walking out of the changing area. He was glad to see Lysandre had his back turned giving him one last moment to wrinkle the trousers and stand perfectly still to hide his hard member. Lysandre looked up from where he was leaning over his desk and approached Augustine. He said nothing making the model wonder if he’d noticed.

“Hmmm.” Lysandre offered walking in a circle around Augustine, looking him up and down. The model felt like he was on display to a predator, and remembered how easily the designer had ripped into Xerosic earlier.

“I wanted this suit to be fitted, but perhaps it is a bit too tight.” He paused in front of the model and crossed an arm over his chest raising the other to his face to look on ponderously. Augustine found himself looking at the designers muscular forearms and once again and felt his cock twitch, he buckled where he stood and smiled nervously.

“It-it is pretty tight.” He laughed again cursing his body. Lysandre nodded,

“Can you walk in them?” The question was a command in disguise and Augustine thought he might drop dead then and there. He awkwardly extended a leg praying that the designer wouldn’t notice the bulge and took a few paces forward before resuming his awkward pants wrinkling posture.

“Properly.” Lysandre frowned, “You can’t tell me that’s how an experienced model walks on the runway.” He sounded unamused.

Augustine thought he might cry but steeled himself. He needed this job, and he wasn’t going to let a rouge boner destroy the best modelling contract he might ever land. Full of fake self confidence he stepped forward this time extending his legs and holding his shoulders like he would in front of an audience. His hands slipped into the pants front pockets in an attempt to obscure any budges as he took 5 paces forward before posing, turning, and returning to the centre of the room.

“Better.” Lysandre nodded, “But I will take them out somewhat.” Augustine was afraid to look down to see just how prominent his body’s need was.

“That will be all for today.” The designer said. Augustine took that as his cue to flee to behind the privacy of the screen where he quickly took off the constricting pants. His member sprung forward still contained within his underwear and he noticed that a dribble of precum was beginning to soak through his underwear. He quickly checked the inside of the trousers and thanked the lord that none had transferred onto the fine garment. He quickly disrobed and got back into his original, much looser, slacks and white shirt. He neatly collected all the clothes he had tried on for Lysandre and returned them to their hangers before exiting. He was thankful that his slacks hid his need with no problem.

When he exited he found Lysandre sitting at his main desk. He didn’t acknowledge the model as he exited and continued to write things down on the paper in front of him.

“Augustine, what size shoes do you wear?” He didn’t look up as his pen continued to dance across the page.

“Ten.. sometimes nine?” He answered standing awkwardly holding the clothes. Lysandre motioned to the rack and Augustine hung the garments back where they had come from. He was thankful, that finally, his erection seemed to be subsiding, he still filled his pockets with his hands to obscure it even further.

Lysandre propped his elbows up on the desk and held his hands together, surveying the model from over them.

“I would like to take you on for both the show and accompanying magazine shoots, if you so wish.” He paused. “It will be commission based employment but you will be paid for your time today, further fittings, photographs, rehearsals and the show it’s self.”

Augusine beamed.

“Yes! I’d love to! Merci merci merci!” He knew his elation wasn’t professional but couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Lysandre simply nodded, picking up a form off his desk and offering it too him.

“Here are the terms, please fill out the contract and give it to Malva at the front desk.” Augustine eagerly accepted the paper and held onto it tightly. Lysandre continued.

“There is an event tonight. More of a party really.” The designer looked uncomfortable admitting this.

“It is not usually my policy to attend parties, but, with the Colress Awards around the corner it would be unseemly for me to decline. Models are also invited, so you too are welcome to attend.” He handed Augustine an invite card with an address and time on it. Augustine looked over the fancy script before pocketing it.

Silence permeated the air and Augustine realised it was his time to leave. He smiled at the designer and bid him goodbye before exiting into the elevator at the other end of the office. As he turned around to hit the G button he saw Lysandre watching him as the elevators steel doors closed. When the doors closed Augustine used this privacy to adjust his member once more and was glad to see it was almost back to normal.

“Too little, too late.” He muttered to himself as he appeared on the bottom floor. Augustine crossed the scarlet lobby with a spring in his step. He’d gotten hired! By an incredibly prestigious brand! It was all he could do to not jump in the air and yell. He flicked over the conditions, after finding nothing in particular out of the ordinary. He borrowed a pen from Malva at the front desk and filled out the sections on the form.

“So he chose you, huh.” The secretary commented looking him up and down. She was the same woman who’d been curt with him earlier in the day. Her pink hair was pinned in a tight bun at the back of her head. Round glasses sat on her face and she looked over them and down her nose to examine him.

“I guess he knows best.” She leered accepting Augustine’s forms. He thanked her before leaving the lobby and making his way out onto the streets of Paris. The model put his hands in his pockets and found the invite card Lysandre had given him. He wasn’t sure what to make of the designer. He presented himself as stern, but had been unable to hide brief amusement when Augustine had made a fool of himself. He also wasn’t sure what to make of his body's decision to behave like a pubescent teen. He decided it was just sexual frustration and nothing to do with the man in question. Augustine began making his way into the central city to find something nice to wear out tonight.

Xerosic watched the model leave from the third floor of _Flare’s_ head quarters with a wicked look on his face. He pulled out his cellphone and selected a number from his contacts.

“Malva, you know that favour you owe me...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me longer to push this out than I thought it would, real life etc. It's also shorter than I had planned because I was going to include the party but I think it's better to cut that for the next part. I hope you're enjoying the fic! Again, I do not have a beta so please tell me where I've made typos and the like.


	3. Chapter 3

Lysandre brought the cigarette to his lips and took a drag. He closed his eyes and willed this evening to be over. He had never enjoyed this part of the business, even less so tonight when it was his city hosting. Dread wasn’t the right word, he was good at this, he was good at hosting and talking politely and engaging a room full of his peers but he didn’t relish in it. Less so tonight with the competition in town. He’d managed to avoid Giovanni so far but knew that it was inevitable that he would be cornered by the _Rocket_ designer before long. He’d spoken briefly to Ghetisis who’d made a great show of talking up his son’s designs for the upcoming show. Lysandre had felt sorry for ‘N’ (Was that his real name he’d always wondered, America was a strange place after all) the boy had seemed out of sorts at a party and had resigned to letting his father do all the talking. Lysandre had spied Archie and Maxie talking themselves up in the corner with a host of onlookers and he’d taken the opportunity to slip out onto a balcony and light himself a cigarette.

There were a few models mingling at the other end of the veranda but for the most part he had the area to himself. Leaning on the metal rail he looked out over Paris. It was a beautiful night, the lights of the city twinkled in various colours from Lysandre’s perch. The Eiffel Tower the centre piece of the neon starscape looked especially stunning tonight. Taking in the sights and another draw from his cigarette Lysandre was happy to avoid his social obligations for a while longer. Especially when he knew what was coming, he hated to think what petty joke _they_ had come up with this time. Ghetisis had told the red head to look forward to his surprise, but it wasn’t _Plasma_ he was worried about...

Lysandre’s pondering was cut short when a laughing group of men and woman made their way onto the balcony.

“And then I said, ‘No, no, no, Monsieur that... is nylon!’” A familiar voice delivered a punch line for what must have been an amusing anecdote as the group began roaring with laughter. Lysandre observed them out of the corner of his eye.

“Augustine my friend, did you ever get any work done overseas?” A fit looking man asked rhetorically, strange pebble like decorations adorning his dark hair. Another round of laughter emerged from the group.

“Now Grant I resent that statement!” Augustine said very matter of factly, stepping forward, a smile on his face. Lysandre got his first look at the model for the evening. He was wearing a loose purple button up, the first three buttons undone exposing a generous amount of collarbone the shirt was tucked into some very form fitting black trousers accentuating how narrow his waist was. The look was finished off with a pair of very clean black dress shoes, they looked new Lysandre noted. Overall the designer found Augustine’s look to be very simple and could think of a dozen better ways to better show off the model’s body. He noted that Augustine had shaved for the event unlike earlier and had possibly even combed his hair but it still bounced forward his head a mess of uncooperative cowlicks. He totted a half empty wine glass in his hand and by looking at the red flush of skin it was evident that wasn’t his first drink.

Lysandre had been wondering if the model would show up and was surprised at how glad he felt seeing him. It was his first time seeing Augustine candid and he can’t say he was shocked to see the model as a social butterfly. With his natural beauty and good hearted nature he had his audience captivated, Lysandre included. The designer had had a hard time getting the model out of his head since he left his office this afternoon. Something about Augustine Sycamore had entranced Lysandre.

The model was yet to notice his new boss and continued talking to Grant, a model currently contracted by Magma if Lysandre wasn’t mistaken.

“I got a lot of work done.” Augustine nodded as to give credence to his statement.

“And a lot of people too if the rumours are anything to go by...” Grant offered the sly dig before the group burst into more laughter. The French model tried to keep his cool, but Lysandre could see the burning red on his neck and wondered if the rumour held much truth.

“Now, now, I’m not one to kiss and tell.” He tried to claim control of the situation, Augustine winked drawing a few giggles from the females of the group and Lysandre was sure he saw Grant look abashed his dark skin hiding the flush of his face.

Augustine was like a beacon, the other models swarming around him like a lighthouse. Lysandre frowned as he watched them continue to converse. He observed as Augustine’s long fingers fished into a pocket in the front of the slim pants and withdraw a cardboard cigarette box. He put the pre-rolled tabacoo into his mouth while patting down his other pockets.

“Merde, does anyone have a light?” He said the cigarette still in his mouth as he made a second round of trying his pockets. The group around him shook their heads sadly. Desperate the model looked around the balcony. Lysandre looked away, concentrating his eyes on the city not wanting to be caught staring. He heard some footsteps and then;

“Monsieur, excuse me? Could I-oh!” Lysandre turned around to see Augustine’s surprised face, unlit cigarette in hand,

“Lysandre!” He said almost taken a back. “Sorry I didn’t see it was you.” The model scratched the back of his head looking embarrassed. The designer brought his cigarette to his lips, looked him up and down before exhaling again.

“Can I help you Augustine?” He said simply trying to act like he hadn’t spent the last ten minutes watching the man out of the corner of his eye.

“I was going to trouble you for a light.” The model said seeming unsure, he brought himself closer to Lysandre and offered the unlit cigarette forward. Without a word Lysandre took an engraved silver lighter out of his breast pocket. The fleur-de-lys caught the light as the designer flicked the top open and produced an orange flame. Augustine put the rolled tobacco in his mouth and Lysandre held the lighter up to the end of the paper, when it caught alight the model took a long drag. The red head noted how the model’s eyes fluttered closed and how the hollow of his throat flickered.

After a moment Augustine exhaled and smiled,

“Merci beaucoup, I really needed that.”

“How are you enjoying the evening?” Lysandre quested not wanting the conversation to end quite yet. Something about the model fascinated him more than it ought to. Since he’d first seen the lanky man on stage to the closer up view he’d had of him in his office. Augustine really was something else. Even how he’d been commanding a group of people with no effort at all just minutes ago had perplexed him.

But nothing had perplexed him about the model more than his paperwork. When he had given Malva his forms earlier that afternoon he had signed off on permission for _Flare_ to do a background check on him. It was for insurance purposes he told clients who asked, which wasn’t a lie but, Lysandre liked to know everything he possibly could about everyone he possibly could. And what had turned up about Augustine Sycamore had confused him. Nothing scandalous, the model had been true to his word about starting life off here in Paris before going abroad and working for Rowan. He had however missed out that he originally went abroad to study. He had won a prestigious scholarship to a high class university overseas to study zoology and evolution. He stopped modelling in France and went off to graduate four years later with top marks and promises of jobs all over. But less than three weeks after his graduation he began working for Rowan. He and his team hadn’t been able to find why, which led him to believe there wasn’t any foul play involved. It just was what it was. Never the less, a model that also had a PhD was peculiar and Lysandre hadn’t been able to stop wondering what Augustine might be hiding.

“It has been interesting.” The model brought Lysandre back to reality by answering his question, “Seeing old faces has been nice and meeting new one’s has been fun but...” He paused looking for a way to phrase himself, “It feels... tense?” Lysandre couldn’t help but smile at the models intuition.

“You are not wrong.” He said the corner of his mouth still twisted upwards, “These evenings are just... if you’ll excuse the harsh phrasing... pissing contests.” Lysandre took a drag of his cigarette before continuing, “It’s dressed up nicely but it’s just a place for different companies to show off and rip into one another.” Lysandre sighed before looking again at the model, “There is a reason I do not like these evenings.”

Augustine said nothing and leaned over the railing, taking another drag from his cigarette. The slight breeze played with his hair, the designer couldn’t help but think he was beautiful. Tens of outfits sprung to his mind each made specifically to fit the models frame. Some dark to offset his pale skin, some light to bring out his eyes. Form fitting was best for him, but Lysandre could think of a dozen different shirts that with the right kind of drape would highlight his form while concealing it. He wondered idly what the model might look like it less mainstream clothes, and wondered if he’d consent to wearing a long cape or perhaps even a collar. The cape would be blue and have a matching mask, but what to pair clothes wise? Minimal. Yes. Sleeves but no top. Trousers wise maybe something tight. Maybe even tighter than the pants he’d had the man try on today. He remembered the member that had been clearly visible under fabric as he’d had the model walk in his office today and wondered if he’d have to take the man’s sizeable bulge into consideration when adjusting clothes for him.

Lyandre’s daydream-slash-inspiration-session was interrupted by the calling of his name.

“Lysandre!” A harsh tone yelled, the designer sighed looking apologetically at Augustine.

“It seems I can no longer avoid...  this.” He said politely and excused himself from the model, stubbing out the end of his cigarette on a nearby ashtray. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Good luck?” The model offered confused as the designer slipped back into the main socializing room.

Lysandre was surprised to see that it was Cyrus calling out his name and he approached the _Galactic_ leader with a flat, but polite expression. Cyrus was wearing a high collared black turtle neck of some description with a gray vest over top. Sometimes Lysandre wondered how the man was a designer at all when he couldn’t dress his way out of a paper bag, but he was often put in his place when he saw _Galactic’s_ work on the runway.

“Can I help you Cyrus?” He offered, “Perhaps more punch?” He tried to play the good host and lighten the mood.

“Oh no, no, it’s not me who-“ He was cut off as a man wearing an orange suit interjected.

“There you are! Lysandre, my friend.” Giovanni grinned finally having spied his prey. He stuck out a hand demanding a handshake and Lysandre responded not appreciating how tightly the _Rocket_ designer gripped his palm.

“I’ve been looking for you all night you know, how rude of a host to be so scarce.”Already the digs had begun, but Lysandre was prepared for Giovanni and offered him a tight smile.

“So many guests to greet, you must forgive me for my transgressions, Giovanni.” Lysandre took a moment to take in the _Rocket_ leader’s garish appearance. He’d done it on purpose, obviously. The orange suit was meant to provoke Lysandre. Orange was _Flare’s_ colour ( _Rocket_ was built around Red and Gray) but he’d gone out of his way to get this garish tacky monstrosity made. He couldn’t help but think that it made even Cyrus look fashionable. As usual Giovanni’s thinning brown hairline was slicked back revealing too much forehead. Under the suit Giovanni wore a green vest, red tie and an almost cream button up. Lysandre couldn’t help but wonder if this was all a show because he knew the snake of a man to be better at dressing himself than this. He chose not to comment on it but Giovanni sharp as ever must have seen him looking at his choice of dress.

“Oh do you like it? I’d heard rumours you liked orange.” He joked, managing to draw a chuckle out of Cyrus who seemed to find the cheap jab genuinely funny.

“As always... you surprise me.” He answered honestly. Giovanni’s smirk was enough to know he’d gotten what he wanted out of the other man.

“Your look is not to be dismissed either, that is faux I assume?” Giovanni took a sip out of his wine glass while gesturing at the fur of Lysandre’s collar. The _Flare_ designer grit his teeth but maintained a calm expression. Lysandre had chosen to wear what most would call a typical look for him. He’d gone for dark gray trousers with black piping up the legs. A black undershirt with orange details on the cuffs of the sleeves and the top of the breast pocket finished off with a dark gray jacket lined with faux cream fur. He wouldn’t dream of using real fur. It wasn’t beautiful to hurt animals in such a way for fashion, especially when alternate options existed. He thought it wasteful. Giovanni however insisted on using the real deal, anything less was an affront to his ‘creative effort’ and ‘genuine art’ Lysandre thought it was just so he could charge more money for his work once it hit the street.

“As ever your eye is good, it is indeed faux.” Lysandre wished he had a wine glass but had left his previous one inside, the idea of throwing back a glass or seven sounded great right about now. On second thought something stronger would be better and wondered if he could get some whisky from a passing waiter.

“Indeed. Never sits as nicely.” Giovanni said simply, but Lysandre could hear the distain in his voice.

There was a sound of something hitting glass and Lysandre looked around to see a weedy looking man with spectacles hitting a glass with a spoon. Colress’s blond hair was pulled back tightly with a stray blue dyed strand bouncing around his head. He was wearing a white over coat with long tails. Underneath black trousers with light gray pinstripes offset by a blue shirt. As usual, Lysandre thought, Colress was well put together.

“If I could have everyone’s attention!” He called out hitting his glass a few more times until the attention of the room was trained on him. Lysandre saw Augustine and his companions from earlier join the side of the crowd, they made eye contact briefly. The model offered him a smile, before both concentrating on the man before them.

 “Welcome, models, designers and the like!” Colress began, “I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight and more importantly participating in my upcoming awards ceremony.” He talked for some time about the upcoming exhibition; Lysandre had tuned out and was peering over the head of a blonde model to look at Augustine. He’d obviously had a bit more to drink since he’d left and was currently giggling with Grant about something, he assumed it was something obscene by the way a girl to their left was looking at them. Grant put his arm around Augustine’s shoulder and whispered something into his ear which made the two of them burst out in another round of stifled laughter. Lysandre couldn’t help but feel... jealous. He wanted to be leaning in close to the model, talking in his ear, maybe not making him laugh, he’d make him blush instead he’d-

“Lysandre! If you would please come up here.” There was some clapping, apparently Colress had been talking about him. Augustine smiled at his boss as Lysandre quickly regained his composure and made his way toward Colress. He wasn’t on a stage, but rather just the front of the room had emptied out around him. Lysandre came to stand by his side.

“Now as per usual, the host cities designers are given gifts by their overseas competitors.” Colress explained to the crowd, “It’s a good way to foster comradery between companies.” Lysandre couldn’t help but think that Colress was either naive or in on it. These gifts were never straight forward, often they’d be laced with some kind of hidden meaning or personal affront. He recalled distinctly the year Giovanni had given Archie and Maxie  ‘pure Japanese spring water’ and ‘soil from Fuji’ respectively. The two had been livid at the other mans jest (It was a joke about the reoccurring use of Ocean versus Land motif in their work) but had played it cool at the time. They’d gotten him back the next year by gifting him chocolate coins, they’d laughed as the other man had looked on at a currency he couldn’t spend. Lysandre had always opted to stay out of these games by giving simple but non offensive gifts, he hoped that that alone would leave him out of the other’s war paths but he knew it would not be so simple, especially judging by the look of the grin on Giovanni’s face.

Ghetsis went first with a surprisingly thoughtful gift, he’s given Flare rolls of dark fabric made in America. The fabric was black with gray floral patterns tiling throughout. Maxie and Archie had gone in together on a gift and had brought Lysandre a small tree, they promised it was a kind from their home country that would bear fruit when it matured. Lysandre was glad that he managed to intimidate himself out of a terrible gift from those two, but Giovanni had vanished from the crowd and that made Lysandre even more nervous than his grin before had. Cyrus has brought him meteor fragments, that he said he’d collected himself. A few smaller groups also had gifts for Lysandre such as Evice of _Cipher_ and Gonzap of _Snagem._

“Finally... is it just _Rocket_?” Colress asked looking for Giovanni. The man mineralised from somewhere to right carrying something covered with a deep green cloth. It was large and square with a handle poking through a hole in the fabric so it could be carried.

“I struggled to find you an appropriate gift, Lysandre.” The _Rocket_ boss began. A sense of dread clawed its way up the designer’s spine, he didn’t like the sneer on Giovanni’s face at all. He brought the mysterious box forward and set it down on a table in front of Lysandre.

“Well, go on.” He gestured to the cloth. The red head made his way forward and looked at the mysterious cube. He was either about to get publically humiliated or personally offended or both and he wasn’t in a rush to make those things happen. He avoided looking at Giovanni’s face which he was sure was still set in that fowl smirk. He inched forward and gripped the corner of the cloth, like ripping off a band aid he pulled it quickly to the side exposing the contents.

“You didn’t.” Lysandre muttered unwittingly, genuinely shocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I was sick and didn't trust myself to write under the care of the pain relief! This chapter has actually been split in half because I wanted to post it before Christmas, but I don't have time to finish up the tail end of the other part before my family arrive in approximately 20 minutes (yeah I'm cutting it close!) Anyway, I hope that you all have a great holidays!

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted a fanfiction online for literally over half a decade so be kind (I also don't have a beta so please tell me where I've made stupid mistakes). This idea has been racing around inside my mind since I played the game and this mess just kind of happened. The first chapter is pretty G and this might be a bit of a slow burn but I promise it will get incredibly M in later chapters. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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